Chancay, the principal town in this valley, is the residence of a sub-prefect. It is a league and a half from the river, and a short league from the sea, where there is an inconsiderable and not very safe port, which can only be entered by small vessels. The number of inhabitants is about 1200, chiefly Indians and Mulattos. Excellent fruits and vegetables, good beef, mutton, and poultry, and well-flavored fish, are found here in abundance. The houses are all of the poorest structure, and are sparingly and rudely furnished. In the neighboring farms, some of which are large, as Torreblanco, Pasamayo, &c., maize is extensively cultivated for exportation and for food to the swine, which are very numerous. In no other valley of Peru are there so many earth-fleas, or piques, as they are called, particularly about the plantations. The pique is a small, white insect, which lives in sand, but fastens as a parasite on man and beast, more particularly on swine. It attacks man by penetrating the skin, for the most part under the toe-nails, where an egg is laid, from which a painful tumor is afterwards formed. Should this be neglected, the brood is developed, and penetrates further into the flesh. Then follow violent inflammations and imposthumes, which sometimes assume so serious a character that the amputation of the foot becomes necessary. While the pique is penetrating there is no sensation of its presence; it is first felt on the development of the egg, and then it is still easy to remove the bag which contains it, and the mother with it. The Negresses accomplish this with great dexterity. They make an aperture in the skin by scratching it with a needle, and then they draw the bag out. Should it burst, they take out the egg with the needle; but this is a very delicate operation. I have always been able to do it more speedily and more securely with the lancet. The hole is commonly of the size of a bean, and hot cigar ashes are put into it to destroy any eggs or larvæ which may remain. These insects do not always confine themselves to the feet; they sometimes attack the body and the face, and it is in general extremely difficult for the patient to discover how or where he became acquainted with such troublesome companions. I once had six tumors, caused by broods of piques, on my right foot, and I could not trace the annoyance to any other cause than having stopped for a few minutes, while my horse was being saddled, in the corral, or yard, of a plantation.
The road from Chancay to the Haciendas of Bisquira, Andahuasi, and the village of Sayan, extends in a northeasterly direction, through a dreary valley of sand, between rows of sterile hillocks of the most singular forms. I had once to travel along twelve leagues of this wearisome road, under the most oppressive heat of the sun. The mules were quite overcome, and when we reached the Cuesta de los ahorcados (the hill of the hanged) they would not move another step. We had to descend and give them a long rest. We stretched ourselves under the bellies of the animals, the only shade we could get in this treeless waste. At last, after a very difficult journey, during which we lost ourselves in a marsh in the neighborhood of Bisquira, we arrived about midnight at Andahuasi. On this road, only two leagues from Chancay, near the Hacienda of Chancayllo, are situated the Colcas, most remarkable subterraneous structures, of the time of the Incas. According to tradition, they were built by the Yuncas, during the campaign of Capac Yupanqui against Chimu Cancha, as provision magazines for the numerous army, more than 120,000 strong.
At the mouth of the Pasamayo, on the north bank, there are some salinas, which, however, are far more inconsiderable than those of Huacho.
The first time I went from Huacho to Lima, I wished to pass over the whole road, twenty-eight leagues, in one uninterrupted ride; accordingly I left Huacho at two o'clock, P. M., in order that I might cross the great sand-flats during the night. A negro who knew the road accompanied me. We passed through Chancay at midnight. Some muleteers, lying before a hut, called to us, and warned us to stop, as the river had swelled very much. Nevertheless we proceeded onward, and by one o'clock we reached the Pasamayo, which, in consequence of the heavy rains from the mountains, had overflowed its banks. Several travellers had stretched themselves on the ground to wait for the morning light, and in the hope that the flood would by that time subside. No Chimbadores[48] were to be had. My negro guide looked at the water with dismay, and declared that he had never before witnessed so furious a swell. However, we had no time to lose, and I resolved to attempt the passage of the river. Trusting to my well tried horse, which had already carried me safely through many difficult coasting journeys, I cautiously rode into the river, which became deeper at every step. The overwhelming force of the stream was felt by my horse; and he presently lost his footing, though he still continued to struggle vigorously against the force of the current. At this juncture, some passing clouds obscured the moon, and I lost sight of a group of trees which, before leaving the opposite bank, I fixed my eye upon as a guiding beacon. Quite powerless, my horse and I were carried away by the stream, and driven against a rock in the middle of the river. I now heard the anxious outcries of my negro and the travellers on the bank, whilst the waves rose over my head. With a convulsive effort I pulled the bridle, and the horse then turning completely round, once more gained his solid footing. I then gave him the spur, and the courageous animal dashing again into the midst of the current, swam with me to the bank. I rode forward with my negro in search of a better fording-place, and after several fruitless attempts, we at length found one, and we crossed the river safely. The other travellers did not venture to follow our example, but called out begging us not to leave them behind. I sent the negro back on my horse to bring them over; and the noble animal went backward and forward no less than seven times without making one false step. After all this exertion, he bore me with unflagging spirit into Lima, where we arrived at noon on the following day.
From the Pasamayo, the road runs for the space of two leagues tolerably level, and for the most part amidst plantations. Then succeed steep sandy hills, for the distance of about four leagues. The roads are very wearisome both to horse and rider, especially in the declivities towards the plains, where the horse is frequently over his knees in sand. In those parts there are also some extraordinary atmospheric mirrors, in which we beheld ourselves in reflection, riding over our own heads, and our figures magnified to gigantic proportions. Six leagues from Chancay, there are two wretched huts, forming the tambo, or inn, in which travellers obtain refreshment. From thence the road runs through a stony tract, partially strewn with large masses of rock, called the Piedras gordas, and leading to the marshes which surround the Copacahuana plantations. Two leagues further on is the river Chillon, which, like the Pasamayo, may generally be easily forded, but which swells furiously during heavy falls of rain. At a short distance behind the river, the road, called the Camino de Valles, joins that leading to Cerro de Pasco. About a league from Lima there is a place called Palo seco, which, like Piedras gordas, is a celebrated haunt of robbers. The traveller has reason to congratulate himself if he passes these two places without an attack.
FOOTNOTES:
[41] The Indians resort to very artful methods of hiding their money. They sometimes conceal it between the boards of the boxes in which their eggs are packed, or stitch it into the stuffing of their asses' saddles. They often submit to be killed rather than avow where their money is concealed.
[42] The word Pacchacamac signifies He who created the world out of nothing. It is compounded of Paccha, the earth, and camac, the participle present of caman, to produce something from nothing.
[43] Literally—"But there, sir, I lost the stirrups." Meaning that he did not understand it. The Spanish phrase, Perder los estribos, signifies to get confused or embarrassed.
[44] Chola is the common designation for an Indian female. The masculine is Cholo.